“poodle faking” : romance and philosophy
__________
POODLE-FAKING
Romance and Philosophy By Vikram Karve
__________
__________
POODLE-FAKING
TWO “DATES” ON MARINE DRIVE
__________
Romance and Philosophy — A Lazy Mumbai Story
A Spoof By Vikram Karve
__________
From my Creative Writing Archives:
Here is one of my Lazy Mumbai Stories.
I wrote this story — more than 21 years ago — in early 2003 — after a walk on Marine Drive.
I spent many years in Mumbai — thanks to the Navy — in the 1970’s and 1980’s.
And then — again — I enjoyed the 6 best years of my life in Mumbai — from the year 2000 to 2006.
During these happy 6 years — I was very lucky.
I lived in a beautiful heritage building called Empress Court opposite the Oval.
Every morning I woke up sharp at 6 AM to the chimes of the majestic clock on the University of Mumbai Rajabai Tower — and — I would be off to Marine Drive for my brisk morning jog-cum-walk from Churchgate to Chowpatty and back — right till land’s end at Nariman Point.
This morning walk on Marine Drive was for physical exercise.
Every evening — after returning from work — I would head towards Marine Drive again for another walk — and — I would return home late — after enjoying the glorious spectacle of sunset — the panoply of colours as the orange sun was swallowed up in the Arabian Sea.
This time it was a walk to “DO NOTHING” — a leisurely walk to relax the mind — not exercise the body.
_________
The morning walk was to exercise the body.
So — it was a brisk walk — a walk-cum-jog with exercises on the way.
_________
The evening walk was to relax the mind.
Just a unhurried stroll.
To admire the sunset as the sea swallowed up the orange sun.
To watch pretty young things (and the even prettier not-so-young things) who were strolling on Marine Drive — or heading home from work.
To have a bite — peanuts, Bhel, Pani Puri at the famous B-Road stall — sweet curds at Rustom near Churchgate — or maybe — even a Green Chilly Ice Cream at Bachelorr’s opposite the Chowpatty.
________
It was during these glorious POODLE-FAKING aka DOING NOTHING interregnums that the right side of my brain would take over and my mind would wander with interesting creative thoughts which, sometimes, would give birth to story, like this one — aptly titled POODLE-FAKING aka DOING NOTHING.
_________
The terms poodle-faking (and poodle-faker) are outmoded British Army Slang — which were especially in vogue during the British Raj in the British Army stationed in India.
A poodle-faker was a young officer who was disparagingly considered by fellow officers to be over-attentive to women.
_________
Dear Reader — here is my story on poodle-faking once again.
Yes — on request from one of my like-minded friends, a walking partner on many of my lazy Mumbai walks — let me pull out from my creative writing archives — one of my all time favourites — a fiction short story I wrote many years ago — a lazy Mumbai story set on Marine Drive — POODLE-FAKING aka DOING NOTHING.
Remember — I wrote this story more than 21 years ago — in early 2003 — when I was a “busy” man — yet — a poodle-faker.
Yes — I was a busy man — trying to find time for “doing nothing”…
Now — after retirement — I can spend my entire time “doing nothing”.
Hope you enjoy this old-fashioned romance.
Do tell me if you like it.
____________
POODLE-FAKING aka DOING NOTHING
Romantic Story by Vikram Karve
_________
Mumbai — Circa 2003
_________
TWO “DATES” ON MARINE DRIVE
_________
PART 1
_________
Marine Drive “Date” №1
_________
“DATE” WITH ROOPA
________
“What do you do…?” she asks.
“Nothing…!” I say.
“What do you mean ‘NOTHING’…?” she asks, “You must be doing something…!”
“I do nothing…!” I say emphatically.
“Come on Vinay, stop kidding. I know you work somewhere.”
“Work…? You asked me what I do, not where I work…! I work at the Bureau of Statistics.”
“Bureau of Statistics…? What statistics…?”
“Vital Statistics.”
“Vital Statistics…?” she asks with her eyebrows arched in curious surprise.
“No, No. It’s not what you’re thinking. I meant statistics that are vital,” I say, trying to correct the faux pas. “We compile, collate, consolidate, analyze and disseminate various vital statistics.”
“Wow…! How interesting…! Tell me more.”
“You can say that I am an obsolescent man dealing with obsolete things.”
“Obsolescent man…? Obsolete things…? I don’t understand. Where exactly do you work…?”
“I’m in the smallpox section.”
“Smallpox…?”
“Yes. Smallpox. I maintain statistics pertaining to smallpox.”
“That’s funny…! I thought smallpox was eradicated long back.”
“Smallpox may have been eradicated, but my office is still going strong…” I say proudly.
________
(It is true — sometimes the ends vanish — but the means proliferate and flourish till eternity)
________
“I can’t believe it…! If there’s no smallpox around — why maintain statistics…?” she asks.
“If you don’t maintain statistics how will the world come to know that something has vanished, disappeared or become obsolete…?” I say.
“Oh — so you work on vital statistics for things that are obsolete…?” she asks.
“Yes. Obsolete…! Earlier I worked in the typewriters statistics section and it was we who discovered that typewriters had become obsolete the moment we had nothing to do…!!!” I say.
“But what do you do whole day…?” she asks me.
“Nothing…!” I answer emphatically. “I told you I do nothing, didn’t I…?”
“Don’t you feel bored, restless, doing nothing whole day…? Soon you’ll go crazy…!” she says.
“Bored, restless, crazy…? Not at all. Thanks to my work, I have developed the ability to savor long hours of leisure — a gift most of you so-called ‘busy’ people have lost, or probably never acquired…” I say to her.
_________
Yes indeed — my dear Reader — I do nothing.
That’s what I love to do the most — that’s what I do best — and that’s what I do almost all the time — ‘Nothing’…!
Well — actually — I love doing nothing — because for most of the time I have nothing to do.
I have plenty of leisure — plenty of time to do nothing — which is rare in a place like Mumbai — so — I am always busy doing nothing.
________
My life’s leitmotif is that famous epigram of Chang Cha’ao:
________
Only those who take leisurely what the people of the world are busy about can be busy about what the people of the world take leisurely.
________
Dear Reader — I told you I have the ability to enjoy and savor long hours of leisure — a talent which is quite rare in today’s hectic world where everyone is busy running their own rat-race.
I am lucky to enjoy so much leisure — for I am not running in any rat-race.
I may not be a rat — but I am a man of no importance — neither handsome — nor wealthy — nor successful — nor powerful — nor famous — nor — indeed — particularly well endowed.
How can I describe myself…?
The most apt word may be ‘anonymous’
Oh yes — I am an ordinary man who looks so undistinguished and commonplace — that you won’t notice me in a crowd — or even if there is no crowd — for I just blend into the surroundings.
And in my anonymity lies my power — my freedom — to do nothing.
You may call me an idler, a loafer, a loser, a failure — but I just don’t care — as long as I can pleasurably wallow, revel and rejoice in my anonymity — ‘doing nothing’.
Indeed — anonymity is a sine qua non for my ‘doing nothing’ philosophy of life.
__________
Hey — Dear Reader — we have digressed…!!!
Enough of pontification — now let me get back to the story…
__________
FLASHBACK
__________
How the tête-à-tête with Roopa started.
_________
Let’s return to the conversation I am having with the beautiful lady and let me tell you how it all started.
One evening I leave my office — after a busy day of “Doing Nothing” — I cross through the Horniman Circle garden, walk down Vir Nariman Road, past Flora Fountain, cross MG road at Hutatma Chowk, pick up a Vada Pav at Ashok Satam’s stall next to the CTO, stroll leisurely towards Churchgate while the sea of humanity rushes by like a deluge, fortify myself with a refreshing cup of Irani tea at Stadium restaurant and then I sit on the parapet on Marine Drive staring vacantly at the tranquil sea doing what I do best — Nothing…!
“Hi…!” says a melodious feminine voice shaking me out of my reverie. I turn around.
It’s Roopa, my classmate from college.
She is quite a looker and I feast my eyes on her in a yearning sort of way which is worth a hundred compliments.
She blushes at the genuine admiration in my eyes and says, “It’s so nice to see you, Vinay. After so many years. And here of all the places…!”
“I like this place. It’s one of my favorites. I come here most evenings,” I say.
“And what were you doing sitting and staring blankly at the sea like a lost case…?”
“Nothing…!”
“Nothing…? You spend every evening here doing “Nothing”…?”
“Yes…” I say, “Of course, once in a while I go to the Gateway, or Land’s End at Nariman Point, or the Chowpatty side, or even Hanging Gardens. But this is my favorite place for hanging out and doing nothing and most evenings I am here on Marine Drive.”
“What do you do…?” she asks.
“Nothing…!!!” I say.
_________
(And then — we — Roopa and Me — we have the conversation about my work that I have described earlier in the beginning — at the start of my story — I am repeating the conversation for the sake of continuity …)
_________
“What do you do…?” Roopa asks.
“Nothing…!” I say.
“What do you mean “NOTHING”…?” she says, “You must be doing something…!!!”
“I do nothing…!!!” I say emphatically.
“Come on Vinay, stop kidding. I know you work somewhere…” she says.
“Work…? You asked me what I do, not where I work…! I work at the Bureau of Statistics.”
“Bureau of Statistics…? What statistics…?”
“Vital Statistics.”
“Vital Statistics…?” she asks with her eyebrows arched in curious surprise.
“No, No. It’s not what you are thinking. I meant statistics that are vital,” I say, trying to correct the faux pas. “We compile, collate, consolidate, analyze and disseminate various vital statistics.”
“Wow…! How interesting…! Tell me more.”
“You can say that I am an obsolescent man dealing with obsolete things.”
“Obsolescent man…? Obsolete things…? I don’t understand. Where exactly do you work…?”
“I’m in the smallpox section.”
“Smallpox…?”
“Yes. Smallpox. I maintain statistics pertaining to smallpox.”
“That’s funny…! I thought smallpox was eradicated long back.”
“Smallpox may have been eradicated, but my office is still going strong,” I say proudly. It is true — sometimes the ends vanish, but the means proliferate and flourish till eternity.
“I can’t believe it…! If there’s no smallpox around, why maintain statistics…?”
“If you don’t maintain statistics how will the world come to know that something has vanished, disappeared or become obsolete…?”
“Oh, so you work on vital statistics for things that are obsolete…?”
“Yes. Obsolete…! Earlier I worked in the typewriters statistics section and it was we who discovered that typewriters had become obsolete the moment we had nothing to do…!”
“But what do you do whole day…?”
“Nothing…!” I answer emphatically. “I told you I do nothing, didn’t I…?”
“Don’t you feel bored, restless, doing nothing whole day…? Soon you’ll go crazy…!”
“Bored, restless, crazy…? Not at all. Thanks to my work, I have developed the ability to savor long hours of leisure — a gift most of you so-called ‘busy’ people have lost, or probably never acquired.”
“Aren’t you happy to see me…?” she asks.
“Of course I am happy to see you,” I say looking directly into her large brown eyes.
“You’ve told me everything about yourself — but you haven’t asked me anything about me,” she says.
“I’m no nosy parker. I don’t like to be too inquisitive,” I say.
“Inquisitive…? But you can be a bit curious, can’t you…? Don’t you want to know about me…? What all I’ve achieved since college, what I’m doing, my work — aren’t you interested in me…?” she asks.
“I was always interested in you. Don’t you remember…? It was you who never gave me any bhav. You used me as a messenger to carry love letters to your boyfriends, that’s all,” I say.
“Please don’t say that. You know you were so sweet, that you were the only boy we all girls could confide in, talk to freely, knowing you would keep our secrets safe,” she says.
“Okay Roopa — confide in me. Tell me — what are you doing here…?”
“I’ve come for my visa. They said it’d take an hour. So I just came here to kill time.”
“Visa…? Here in Churchgate…? I thought the visa office was in Breach Candy or somewhere there…!”
“That’s the US Consulate. I’ve already got that. The UK visa office is here. In the Brabourne Stadium building, near Rustom Ice Cream.”
“Ah…! Rustoms…! Come on Roopa, let’s have some ice cream. Or sweet curds. Or whatever you like.”
“Let’s eat something first. That place looks good,” she says pointing to the Pizzeria, opposite the Marine Drive, where Talk of the Town was once there. “We’ll sit there and talk. And have some pizza.”
I order a huge special pizza, she orders a small one, and she begins talking about herself.
I am easy to talk to, for I listen well. You’ll understand what I mean once you talk to me. I know when to egg you on… by a subtle gesture, an encouraging look, or an appreciative word of genuine interest. It’s all about building rapport…sensory acuity…matching and mirroring…if you’ve done NLP you know what I mean. Believe me… I have the knack… and when you talk to me your words will just come tumbling out.
Roopa tells me everything, about her Masters in Computers after we graduated in Maths, her natural talent in Software, her meteoric success, her globetrotting projects, her career rise from job to job, from Mumbai, Bangalore, Gurgaon, to her present job in a top IT company in Pune. And also about her recent marriage to Deepak, another hotshot IT professional working in the same company as hers. She shows me Deepak’s photo — yes he does look an IT Nerd, no doubt about it…
“You know Vinay,” she says excitedly, “I am on the verge of breaking the glass ceiling. This project, the next one year, is crucial, it’s a do or die situation for me. If I succeed, my life is made forever. It will be a career breakthrough for me and there will be no looking back. I’ll be able to set up my own company. Maybe move to the States, Seattle.”
I nod and focus on my pizza.
“It’s going to be very hectic. US, UK, Europe, Far East, Middle East, everywhere — I’ll be globetrotting all over, living out of a suitcase.”
“Great,” I say. “When do you take off…? Tonight…?”
“I wish I could, but there’s a small hitch.”
“Hitch…?”
“I’m pregnant.”
“Fantastic…!” I say… but from the expression on her face I instantly realize that I have said the wrong thing, so I look down into my pizza and pretend to dig deep.
“It’s all wrong. The timing, I mean,” she says. “I’m so meticulous at work… I just don’t know how I could be so careless in my personal life and mess up everything.”
I say nothing.
She wants to hear silence, silent approbation, and that is what she will hear.
That’s the trick… always say something that the person you are talking to wants to hear… otherwise just keep quiet.
“I have to do something fast…!”
“You asked your husband…?”
“Are you mad…? The moment Deepak comes to know, he’ll start jumping with joy for having proven his virility. Everyone will come to know. And it will be curtains for me as far as this project is concerned.”
“You can still go, can’t you…?”
“It’s a one year project. The moment my MCP bosses hear I’m pregnant, they will have me out of the project straightaway. And my husband — he’ll be the happiest. As it is he is inwardly jealous that I’ve got this project… that I’ll succeed and leave him behind. I must do something fast, isn’t it…?”
My mouth full of pizza, I nod my head.
“Vinay, please tell me,” she says getting emotional, “my priorities are right, aren’t they…?”
“Yes, of course, your priorities are right,” I say emphatically.
“What do you say? Now, at this crucial juncture, I should focus on my career, don’t you think? I can always have all the children I want later… isn’t it?”
“Very right. Very right…!” I say. “Roopa, you’re absolutely right…!”
“Thanks, Vinay. I’m so lucky I met you. You are the only one I’ve told all this. Thanks for talking to me. You’ve helped me make my decision,” she says extending her hand on the table.
I place my hand on hers, press gently and look into her brown eyes.
“You’re such a darling, Vinay,” she says, “it’s so comforting to talk to you.”
And then tears well up in her eyes and suddenly she breaks down — oblivious of the surroundings.
I move across, caress her head and gently soothe her.
We talk a bit — and I walk her down to Rustom for a ‘Sandwich Ice Cream’ — then she collects her visa — and I bid good bye to a reassured, composed and determined Roopa as she gets into a taxi on her way to catch a Volvo Bus to Pune.
__________
PART 2
__________
After a lovely “poodle-faking” session with Roopa — some more “poodle-faking” — with the gorgeous Nina.
_________
SOME MORE “POODLE-FAKING”
_________
Marine Drive “Date” №2
_________
“DATE” WITH NINA
_________
Happy at having comforted Roopa — I leisurely stroll towards my favorite place on Marine Drive to continue my poodle faking aka ‘doing nothing’.
I rinse my lungs with the refreshing sea breeze — and suddenly I smell a strong whiff of perfume — or maybe — it’s one of those overpowering deodorants…!
I turn around.
It is the ravishing Nina — another of my ‘achiever’ go-getter classmates — who — after completing her MBA — is now a hotshot in a top MNC.
I have seen her sometimes on Marine Drive — in her chauffeur driven car — driving home late evening from her office in Nariman Point to her home on Malabar Hill.
Once she even stopped and asked me if I wanted a lift — an offer I politely declined.
Then Nina asked me what I was doing — and when I told her I was ‘doing nothing’ — she gave me an uncanny smile .
And — I notice that every time she sees me ‘doing nothing’ at my favorite spot on Marine Drive from her car — she looks at me in a curious sort of way.
“Doing Nothing…?” Nina asks naughtily, her eyes dancing.
“Yes. How did you know…?” I say.
“Come on, Vinay…! You told me once, remember…? I see you here almost every evening while driving home…” she says.
“And you never stop to say hello…?” I say to her, in mock anger.
“I don’t want to disturb your penance…” she says.
“Penance…? That’s malapropism…!” I say.
“Sorry. I mean your “doing nothing” meditation…” she says.
“That’s better…! And what makes you disturb my meditation now…?” I aske her.
“I want to talk to you…” she says.
“Okay. Talk…” I say to her.
“Not here. Too many people here. Let’s go to some quiet place where we can be alone…” she says.
“Hanging Gardens…? Remember our favorite bench in the secluded corner…?” I say to her with a smile.
“Okay. But don’t do anything naughty…!” she says, mischievously.
“Let’s go. Where is your car…?” I ask her.
“I let it go and I walked down from my office. Didn’t want the driver getting too curious…” she says.
“Okay, I’ll get a cab. Hey, why not just walk down Marine Drive…? Walking and talking — it wouldn’t look suspicious.”
“Okay…” she says, “let’s walk and talk.”
And — we walk and we talk.
Being a “facts and figures” finance person — Nina doesn’t beat about the bush — but she comes straight to the point.
“I’m pregnant…” she announces.
I suppress my emotion.
This is too much for one evening.
First — Roopa is pregnant.
And now — Nina is pregnant.
Coincidence — serendipity — I don’t know what — or maybe — it’s pregnancy season.
This time — I am careful not to say anything.
“Aren’t you going to congratulate me…?” she says to me.
“Of course. Congratulations…!” I say.
“You’re the first one I’ve told. I just got the report this evening…” she says.
“Your husband…? You didn’t tell your husband…?” I ask her.
“No…” she says.
“Oh my God…! Is the father of your baby someone else…?” I say.
“Shut up…!” she says, angrily.
“I’m sorry. But you must tell your husband immediately…” I say to her.
“And he will immediately rush me to the nearest abortionist…!” she says,
“What…?” I say. surprised.
“We took all the precautions — but it’s happened. I want the baby…” Nina says.
“Of course you must have the baby..” I say.
“I must. Isn’t it…? What do you feel — I must have the baby — isn’t it…?” she asks me.
“Of course you must have the baby. But why doesn’t your husband want the baby…?” I say to her.
“I told him that when I have a baby — I am going to quit my job — at least take a long break to bring up my child. That’s the right thing to do — isn’t it…?” she says.
“Oh yes — of course that’s the right thing to do…” I say to her.
“I feel being a full time mother is more important. At least when the baby is small — isn’t it…?” she says.
“Of course being a full time mother is most important — especially when the baby is small. You must take care of yourself from right now. Come on — I’ll call a taxi. You shouldn’t strain yourself so much…” I say.
“How sweet of you…! But just let’s sit there by the sea for some time…” she says, giving me a loving look.
“Tell me — why doesn’t your husband want you to have a baby now…?” I ask her.
“Because he knows I will quit my job…” she says.
“So…?” I ask her.
“Who is going to pay the EMI for the luxurious penthouse apartment he wants to book…?” she says, with a frown
“Penthouse Apartment…? It can wait. The baby is more important…” I say to her.
“That is precisely what I have been saying to my husband since we got married…” she says.
“So…?” I ask her.
“He feels we should first have all the material things — all the comforts — before we have a baby…” she says.
“Your husband has got his priorities wrong…” I say, emphatically.
“He’s wrong — isn’t it…?” she asks me.
“Yes — he is wrong. And you are right…” I say to her.
“So I should go ahead with the baby — isn’t it…?” she asks me.
“Of course…” I say, “You must have this baby…”
“And I should quit my job…?” she asks me.
“Of course you should quit your job for the sake of your baby. Nina — you go and tell your husband right away and put your foot down. Tell him: “The baby takes priority — the penthouse apartment can come later”…” I say firmly to Nina.
“I will, I will — of course I will — I will tell him the moment I reach home…” Nina says — looking happy and emboldened.
“You must do what your conscience tells you. Listen to your inner voice. Be the strong girl like you were in college…” I say.
Nina gives me a genuine smile of affection.
“I’m so glad I talked to you, Vinay. Thanks for helping me make my decision…” she says to me.
_________
We sit for some time by the sea at Chowpatty at the end of Marine Drive and marvel at the spectacle of the sun being swallowed by the sea.
Then I walk Nina to a taxi — and she leaves after giving me a warm hug.
_________
I walk down Marine Drive in the twilight and reflect.
Roopa and Nina.
What contrasts…!!!
I loved talking to them.
In fact — I love to talk to anyone who wants to talk to me.
Talking to someone who needs comforting seems to make my own troubles go away.
_________
PART 3
_________
EPILOGUE
_________
Dear Reader:
Do you agree…?
Sometimes — when you are feeling low — if you talk to someone who needs comforting for her troubles — you find that you feel better — and you forget your own problems.
_________
Yes:
_________
Talking to someone who needs comforting — this can make your own troubles go away.
________
Maybe — this is the reason why people do counselling — they counsel others because they want to forget their own worries.
If you have worries — and — you “counsel” someone who has problems — it may help you forget your own worries.
_________
Yes — sometimes — talking to a person who needs comforting — this makes you forget your own worries.
I have experienced this so many times.
Have you experienced this…?
For me — even on the Social Media — “talking” to someone who needs comforting — it does make me forget my own problems.
________
Dear Reader:
Do comment and let us know your views.
________
Till then:
________
HAPPY POODLE-FAKING
________
VIKRAM KARVE
Copyright © Vikram Karve
1. If you share this post, please give due credit to the author Vikram Karve
2. Please DO NOT PLAGIARIZE. Please DO NOT Cut/Copy/Paste this post
© vikram karve., all rights reserved.
Disclaimer:
- This story is a fictional spoof, pure fiction, just for fun and humor, no offence is meant to anyone, so take it with a pinch of salt and have a laugh.
- All stories in this blog are a work of fiction. Events, Places, Settings and Incidents narrated in the stories are a figment of my imagination. The characters do not exist and are purely imaginary. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
- E&OE
Copyright Notice:
No part of this Blog may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical including photocopying or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the Blog Author Vikram Karve who holds the copyright.
Copyright © Vikram Karve (all rights reserved)
An Updated and Revised Version of My Story POODLEFAKING written by me Vikram Karve in the year 2003 and posted by me online a number of times on my various creative writing blogs including at urls: http://creative.sulekha.com/poodlefaking_63078_blogand http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2010/08/poodlefaking-catharsis-and-doing.htmland http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2012/12/poodle-faking.htmlandhttp://karvediat.blogspot.in/2014/08/humour-doing-nothing-short-story.htmland http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2015/05/philosophical-romancing-on-marine-drive.htmlandhttp://karvediat.blogspot.in/2013/09/poodle-faking-aka-doing-nothing.html and http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2016/03/the-poodle-faker-ladies-man.html and http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2016/12/two-dates-on-marine-drive.html and http://karvediat.blogspot.com/2017/05/just-talking-story.html and https://karve.wordpress.com/2020/03/26/two-walk-and-talk-dates/ and https://karve.wordpress.com/2021/03/24/poodle-faking-2/ and https://karve.wordpress.com/2022/02/20/poodle-faking-romance-and-philosophy/ and https://karve.wordpress.com/2022/11/22/poodle-faking-two-dates-on-marine-drive-2/ etc
© vikram karve., all rights reserved.
____________
